


you mustn't waver.

by seraf



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Abuse, Child Abuse, Childhood Memories, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Eating Disorders, Emetophobia, Emotional Manipulation, F/M, Hospitals, Implied/Referenced Incest, Possessive Behavior, Sibling Incest, Underage Kissing, Vomiting, it's bad!!! its a bad relationship i am not romanticizing this, its bad, kiyo is like 11-12 his sister is like 19
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-12
Updated: 2019-06-12
Packaged: 2020-05-01 19:19:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19184032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seraf/pseuds/seraf
Summary: shuichi views the fond memory of one of his classmates, and wonders why it could possibly be remembered fondly.korekiyo shouldn't be so selfish.





	you mustn't waver.

‘ let me see your wrist, korekiyo. ‘ her voice, though raspy and weak, is still underlied with steel and demanding, cold, gripping the thin hospital blankets to her chest. shuichi remains unseen to the both of them, sitting on the ghost of a hospital bed of years past, sewn into this memory somehow and filled with an abject sort of curiousity.

 

the . . . eleven? twelve? year old kiyo sits obediently across from her, their knees touching, and holds out his wrist, she slotting her own next to it, comparing them, her face unreadable, cloaked by long raven hair - eerily similar to the kiyo that shuichi knows today. finally, her fingers curl, and she looks up at her brother. ‘ you’ve been gaining weight, ‘ she says, voice flat and unreadable. something crawls slowly down the length of shuichi’s spine. the killing game has given him a sixth sense to danger, able to sense it looming, and though sister is only a sick, sick girl, just shy of twenty or so, he gets that same sense from her.

 

‘ i don’t mean to, ‘ kiyo says, just as quietly, hand drawing back to his chest. ‘ i just . . . eat when i am being watched, sister. i promise. ‘ his hair isn’t yet as long as hers, the edges not yet smooth - it’s a little raggedy, falls down to his chin. his voice is muffled slightly by a disposable medical mask.

 

she pinches his cheek hard between her thumb and forefinger, tugs outwards, as though to demonstrate the baby fat built up on his face. he barely even flinches, eyelashes fluttering against his cheekbone. ‘ korekiyo. ‘

 

his shoulders sag. ‘ i know, ‘ he murmurs. ‘ i have . . . failed you, sister. i - ‘ he hesitates, looks down and away in apparent shame. ‘ one of my friends at school - there was a birthday. i ate dinner there. and . . . a few bites of dessert. ‘

 

‘ was it good? ‘ she asks, her face dangerously blank. like a dusting of snow covering ice on a pond, concealing how thick it is.

 

he can’t meet her eyes. ‘ it was, ‘ he confesses. ‘ i am not often a fan of chocolate, but it was made by the mother, and it was so rich . . . eating it in and of itself was almost enough to upset my stomach, but in a wonderful kind of way. ‘

 

sister cups his face, her skeletal fingers hooking in the straps of his mask, tugging it off his features, revealing a much younger kiyo - lips curled up in uncertainty, cheek still reddened from where she had grabbed it, not yet graceful and angular as the kiyo shuichi knew. ‘ dear korekiyo, ‘ she murmurs, thumb tracing over that redness. ‘ it sounds as though you had a wonderful time. ‘

 

‘ i’m sorry you weren’t there, ‘ he blurts out, brows pulled together, and then claps a hand to his mouth. she strokes through his hair and just _looks_ at him, golden eyes piercing, and he lowers it. ‘ i must not be flustered, ‘ he says softly, so quietly shuichi barely hears it. ‘ i must not lose composure. i must not waver. ‘

 

‘ good, ‘ she says, smiling suddenly. ‘ i’m glad you remember. ‘ kiyo seems to light up a little at the praise, looking at her hopefully. she crooks one finger. ‘ _but . . ._ you were selfish, korekiyo. ‘ her voice is a purr, like silk, as she cards her thin hands through his hair again. ‘ you were greedy. ‘

 

‘ i know, sister, ‘ he says, with the voice of a repenting sinner. ‘ i know if you can’t, i shouldn’t, either. it isn’t fair. ‘

 

shuichi notes the iv in one of the crooks of sister’s arms, and wonders how long it’s been since she’s eaten actual food. _jealousy,_ he realizes, is the unreadable emotion that sits bitter in the corners of her snake-green eyes and clenches just a little too tightly around kiyo’s wrist. but her voice is still gentle when she says ‘ you know what you should do, then. ‘

 

kiyo hesitates, worrying his mask between his hands. ‘ i . . . don’t know if i can, ‘ he says, slowly. ‘ i tried on my own, but nothing . . . comes up. ‘

 

‘ i see. ‘ his eyes, looking up at her steely face, seem to beg for forgiveness. she smooths down his hair once again, face seemingly melting into a little smile. ‘ i forgive you, korekiyo. you will learn, in time. you tried your best for me, did you not? so - i will help you. i will _always_ be here to help you, korekiyo. ‘ she puts heavy emphasis on that word. _you need me_ weighs just as heavily in the air, though she never speaks the words.

 

‘ i know you will, ‘ he vows. ‘ and i will do whatever you need of me. ‘

 

‘ you’re such a good little brother, korekiyo, ‘ she sings, pressing her chapped lips to the skin underneath one of his eyes, still holding him close. ‘ you can start by . . . the garbage can next to the bed. bring it up here. ‘ he does so immediately, tucking it between his knees where his legs are crossed.

 

‘ hold on, ‘ he says, and brushes his hair so it’s tucked neatly behind his ears, setting the mask down on the bed, and swallowing once before his jaw sets and he opens his mouth.

 

‘ good, korekiyo, ‘ sister murmurs, tracing along his jaw briefly, lovingly, almost as though in reward. shuichi jumps at her sudden movement as she almost lashes out, like a snake, and jabs two of her thin fingers into his mouth, korekiyo initially recoiling, choking around her hand. she gives him an icy glare, and he freezes obediently, holding his mouth open even as tears bud in his eyes, wavering on the edge of spilling over.

 

kiyo gags, hands instinctively coming up to grab her wrist but stopping himself short, torso jerking. sister removes her hand, wiping her fingers on the sheet as hehunches over the garbage can and heaves, vomiting once, twice, his shoulders shaking, tear rolling down the side of his face as he retches.

 

‘ well done, korekiyo, ‘ she coos in praise, once he seems to have finished, and he smiles tearfully, setting the bin down by the foot of her bed again and wiping his face clean of the tear tracks and the bile still staining the corners of his mouth. with the hand she had just had down his throat, she strokes over his hair, and he rests into the motion, trembling slowing to a halt. shuichi is reminded, viscerally, of a plant starving for sunlight, growing in contortions for just a trace of it.

 

his smile turns shy, and he reaches into his pocket, holding something behind his back. ‘ i brought you something, sister. ‘ with a soft reverence to his movements, he holds it in front of him, balanced on his palms. it’s a simple, brand new tube of blood-colored lipstick, point sharp and immaculate.

 

sister’s hand drifts towards the black and gold tube, before her brow knits, and her skeletal fingers trace over her own chapped lips. she looks up at korekiyo, shrewd and evaluating, before shifting the hand still tracing through his hair to rest firmly on the back of his head, tugging him into a chaste kiss.

 

‘ you are a thoughtful love, as always, ‘ she murmurs. ‘ however . . . go rinse out your mouth, instead, and then come back here. ‘ ever obedient, he shuts the tube again and walks over to the bathroom attached to her room, the sound of water running soon echoing into the room where she lies. kiyo doesn’t yet have grace or subtlety to his movements; just caution, quiet.

 

shuichi gets this moment to study sister’s face, without the mask she displays to kiyo. her mouth becomes hard and impatient, and something stormy and angry and bitter rolls like distant thunder in the back of her eyes.

 

it’s gone as soon as korekiyo comes and sits across from her again.

 

she opens the tube of lipstick. ‘ sit very still, korekiyo. purse your lips slightly. ‘

 

slowly, carefully, she paints his lips bright red, holding his chin with one hand, adjusting him as though he were a doll, a delicate art project. she finishes, draws back her hand, considers her masterpiece. kiyo’s hair isn’t even down to his shoulders, yet, his yellow eyes still wide and concerned, more than anything else, and his lips now a bright red shock in the middle of his face.

 

‘ how do i look? ‘ he asks, quietly, before tacking on ‘ like you? ‘ with a hopeful little uplift to his voice.

 

‘ more and more every day, ‘ she says after a moment, capping the lipstick and folding it into his hands, squeezing them gently. he holds it to his heart like a holy oath. ‘ you’re almost beautiful now, kiyo. i wish you could stay like this forever. ‘

 

‘ i’ll become more so, for you, ‘ he vows. ‘ with you . . . i can be perfect. like you. ‘ deep infatuation sits behind his eyes, and she laughs, a high little chuckle concealed behind dainty fingers.

 

‘ will you, korekiyo? it pleases me, to hear that from you. ‘ she leans forwards, kisses the corner of his lips, careful not to smudge her fine work. ‘ . . . i want you to wear this. all the time, if you can. ‘

 

kiyo’s brow creases. ‘ i don’t . . . at school, too? ‘

 

shuichi watches with a sort of numbness he wishes he could fight back as she picks up his medical mask and slips it back over his face with something that looks almost like tenderness, presses a finger to where his lips would be under it. ‘ it can be our secret. what is one more, between us? ‘

 

he holds it tight to his chest. like a secret. ‘ when i visit you again on wednesday, will you show me how to apply it again? i’ll make sure i know how to do it myself, but . . . ‘

 

‘ of course, korekiyo, ‘ she says, smoothing one hand down his back. ‘ i am always happy to help you. i’m just so glad you know to ask for my help, now. ‘

 

‘ i love you deeply, ‘ he swears, with all the solemnity and sheer _conviction_ only a child can have, because despite the maturity in his eyes or the heightened vocabulary he can use, that’s still all he is. eleven or twelve and deeply infatuated with the person he thinks means the best for him. eleven or twelve and convinced he’s found true love.

 

‘ and i you, korekiyo, ‘ she replies in kind, and shuichi thinks, looking into her eyes, that he’s never seen something so hollow.


End file.
